Another bereavement

So the menagerie has decreased by one again, following on from losing Marmite, my male Russian hamster on November 22. Only this time the loss seems so much greater because of who it was, how old he was and what he represented. This was Gus, my first guinea pig. I got him on November 19, 1998, a few weeks after we got Curtis, when I believe he was about 12 weeks old. I'd wanted a pig for ages and had been looking at them a lot, searching the perfect one. Once she had Curtis, Tasha had no argument as to why I couldn't have one, then I spotted Gus in a pet shop, standing up on his hind legs with his front paws against the enclosure practically yelling "You! Yes, you there with the long hair! Guess who's coming to dinner!" That was it. He was the one I had to have.

And what a little star he was, right from the start. He was extremely curious and lively, always wanting to know what was going on. He was very friendly, cute as anything with that wild shaggy fur and as dumb as a box of rocks. He even didn't mind when I gave him a bath which I needed to do every so often because his coat got so mucky and he was extremely funny when he was soaking wet. I have some hilarious photos I must scan that I took one time of him in the bath, that including one that had Tasha quite literally crying with laughter for ten minutes. Everyone who encountered him, friends, parents, people coming to view the house when it was put up for sale, they all loved him, thought he was the most adorable thing they ever saw. After I'd had him a year or so I got Carly who was then very little, only 7 weeks old. They got on just fine, not least because he was a horny little devil. You could see him practically doing his best Terry-Thomas impression, twirling his moustache and saying "Hellllooooooo!". They eventually had four litters of micropigs, the cutest things ever to walk on God's green earth.

He started to lose weight about three months ago, a while after I had him neutered to stop the micropig factory. I wasn't too worried about this at the time as he was apparently eating everything in sight with his normal enthusiasm. However one night last week I came in to find him lying on his side struggling to get up. I had him in the vets first thing but she thought it was pretty much hopeless. He'd obviously not been eating because he'd suddenly lost a lot more weight and was much thinner. He'd no strength left, couldn't stand at all and was cold by the morning. The vet immediately got some subcutaneous fluids and Baytril in him and got him warm, but he didn't respond so I let her put him to sleep. Despite asking lots of questions she remained mystified as to what had caused the problem, but pointed out that being a small animal, things go downhill very quickly once there's a problem which I know to be true from keeping hamsters for years. Often by the time you become aware that your pet is ill it's terminal, unlike with larger animals such as cats, dogs and rabbits where changes in their behaviour are much more noticeable.

People think that losing a pet is a trivial matter, nothing to be upset about, something disposable easily replaced, like having a car stereo stolen or breaking a squash racquet. This annoys and offends me greatly. It's nothing like that. It's a genuine bereavement; you lose a part of your family, especially if you don't have kids. No matter whether that pet is a horse or a hamster, it's still your pet that you loved and looked after. That's all that matters.

Guinea pigs normally live to the age of five or so. My little friend Gus died on December 6, 2001, aged about three and four months. He's buried in my back garden next to a Mexican Orange Blossom bush. RIP, little man.